


Wintergreen Daydreams

by vanceypants



Series: Through Sickness and In Health [2]
Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: M/M, Rich and Jeremy Friendship Hour, Rich is a crass robot fucker, Rich's squip is a boy because idgaf about canon compliance, Underage Drinking, Underage Smoking, alternate universe - Jeremy Heere is dying, alternate universe - terminal illness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-05
Updated: 2019-01-05
Packaged: 2019-10-05 00:34:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17314745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vanceypants/pseuds/vanceypants
Summary: “Look, Jeremy, I don’t know why you think it’s so weird.  It’s time for you to suck that squip dick.”The Squip insists that Jeremy should open up more to others during this time is illness, and Rich turns out to be the safest choice.  Between being a bad influence and a bundle of substance abusing energy, Rich can't help but chide Jeremy for failing to realize his squip's full potential.





	Wintergreen Daydreams

**Author's Note:**

> This is within the same universe as Absolute, and follows Jeremy's continued coping with *insert unnamed terminal illness here*.
> 
> I'm just a sucker for any friendship between Rich and Jeremy, and I'm also a sucker for any and all forms of squipshipping, so here we go again with my nonsensical ass. I hope you enjoy and if you want anymore within this universe, let me know!

The carpet crunched unpleasantly under Jeremy’s feet as Rich gestured him forward through the precariously hanging screen door. The sound of Family Feud reruns was offset by obnoxiously loud snoring, a squat figure passed out in an armchair, face drooping unpleasantly. Jeremy could feel the Squip making assessments, but--although Rich wouldn’t be able to hear--he couldn’t help but hope he’d keep his judgments to himself.

After all, this had been his idea to begin with.

Rich grabbed Jeremy by the wrist, a light hold, as he tugged him down the hallway. The walls were dusty and smudged with black fingerprints, and Jeremy swore he saw a scuttling of insects along the baseboards. He chose not to think too deeply about that.

As if he wasn’t already uneasy about spending an evening with his former tormentor, would-be squip dealer, and current…

...he didn’t even know how to classify Rich Goranski in his life at this point.

 _And don’t say he’s my friend,_ he thought to the Squip. _I don’t even really know him._

“He sends you those macro images and asks you how you’re adjusting to ‘the life,’ as he puts it. Those are trademarks of friendship.” The Squip’s look of distaste was unmistakable as he surveyed the surroundings. “I didn’t realize he was complete trailer trash, though, or perhaps I would have-”

_That’s really rude, you know!_

“What do you care?” The Squip raised an eyebrow. “I thought he wasn’t your friend.”

Jeremy frowned, as Rich tugged him into his bedroom. The room itself seemed moderately neater, though perhaps in the whirlwind way of someone who began to hastily clean clutter at the last minute when discovering they were about to have guests. Two twin beds lay on opposite ends of the room, and Rich gestured towards one of them.

“Dude, sit down, man. I can’t believe you walked this whole way.”

“I...you don’t know where I live. Maybe, um, I could live really close.”

Rich snorted. “Anywhere halfway worth living is ages away from here. Nice try though.”

Jeremy took a seat on the edge of the bed, though Rich remained standing, pacing with a sort of pent up energy. He paused suddenly (“his squip is likely telling him his constant movement is going to make you anxious,” Jeremy’s Squip supplied), spinning about to face Jeremy. He clapped his hands together enthusiastically.

“I am so glad you called, bro. I know I promised xbox, but my dad sort of…” he trailed off, and Jeremy tried to remember what he was talking about. Xbox?

He felt a twitch in his mind, and not for the first time, wondered if the Squip was manually replaying his memories for him.

(“Yo, fucking dads, right?! He usually passes out by nine, you should come over, play Xbox. You know with a squip, the only controller you need...is your mind?”)

It took Jeremy a moment to remember the rest of the conversation that preceded it. Rich looked at him expectantly, eagerly, and Jeremy felt a wash of cold shame.

“Why are you ashamed? Saying what you did secured friendship, which you drastically need, especially now.” The Squip shimmered beside him, and Jeremy resisted the urge to grab a pillow and throw it in his avatar’s smug face.

“Um. About that thing I said. About my dad-”

Rich tilted his head. “That he drinks too? Bro, been there, done that. It fucking sucks-”

“My dad’s actually, um. Nice. And-” Especially now. Especially fucking now, that everything was falling apart. That Jeremy was falling apart. 

His wife had already abandoned him, and now his son was dying. What a crock of shit his life had turned out to be. 

“Jeremy,” The Squip said, soft and almost sincere. “You’re not responsible for everyone’s happiness. It’s unhealthy that you keep deflecting your grief onto everyone else.”

_Now’s not the time, Dr. Phil, but thank you for the contribution._

“-it’s just, um, I feel really bad,” Jeremy felt frantic, twisting his fingers together, Rich’s eyes still fixed on him. “Making you think we have this, uh, bond of parental, um, neglect or mistreatment or something and I...I just wanted to relate to you and...I’m sorry, you know, because you obviously have it kinda rough, and I sorta kinda totally tricked you into, um, into, um-”

“Dude.” Rich stepped closer. Jeremy tensed, waiting for his hands to form into fists, waiting for his nose to be caved in.

Rich took a seat beside him on the bed, his lips lifted into an amused smile. “You pretended your dad was an alky just so you could spend time with me in my bedroom? Gay.” His words lacked malice, though, and he gently placed his hand on Jeremy’s shoulder. “Dude, I didn’t invite you over to trade war stories. Kinda a weird strategy but, hey, we wouldn’t have squips if we weren’t total weirdos.”

“Common misconception,” The Squip drawled. “Plenty of well adjusted individuals have squips. Individuals in the financial sector. Medical professionals. Politicians-”

_I don’t need a history lesson right now._

Jeremy hated the feeling of guilt he felt at the look of annoyed compliance on his face at those words. It was kind of bitchy of him, wasn’t it? To shut the Squip up when he was just trying to share some fun trivia.

_I’m sorry._

“I’m not looking for your pity,” He spoke the last word with an almost sneer of disgust. “Pay attention to Goranski.”

“And you’re totally talking to yours right now, huh?” Rich looked amused. He flopped onto his back on the bed, his eyes casually moving over Jeremy. “It’s kinda trippy, right? Having a constant consciousness in your own head.”

“Um. Yeah. Trippy. Irritating,” Another flash of guilt as he glanced at the Squip, who appeared more bored than offended. “But, um, it’s nice too.”

“The sex is fucking killer too, right?”

Jeremy’s blood felt too hot for his veins, and his eyes widened. “I, uh, wait, um, hey, what?”

The Squip’s own eyes were fixed on Rich, a little wide, though perhaps it was just him absorbing information. He was supposed to be synced up to Rich’s squip, right? Was he assessing his data? Finding out if that was true? Why would he even care if that was true? What did it matter how Rich masturbated or got off or whatever? Because it really was sort of masturbatory, right? To fuck your squip? And-

Why was Jeremy squirming so much? 

“That’s an innovative use of technology.” He couldn’t tell if the Squip was being sarcastic or genuine.

“The sex. With your squip.” Rich’s hair fanned out around him and he looked at Jeremy in amusement. “You don’t do it with your squip yet?”

“I...uh, never, no. Not at all.”

“Dude. _Dude_. What the hell? You’re not living!” Rich sat up, and grabbed Jeremy’s hands. His touch was warm, vibrant, alive, and Jeremy felt a twinge of sudden misery at the idea of his own hands going cold, limp, lifeless.

“Thinking like that is going to ruin your evening.” The Squip said.

_I can’t help how I think._

“I can. Do you want me to-”

_No! No, leave my thoughts alone, please._

“How does...I mean, how does it even...how would that even-”

“They can manipulate your senses, right? Make it aaaall feel real. But it’s better than real, Jeremy. This is the future of sexuality, I’m telling you. Having someone completely in tune with you, who synces up to your every urge and desire, who’s wholly devoted to bettering your life...and being able to give them something too, to give yourself wholly and make them happier, feel more alive, feel appreciated, because god do they ever deserve to feel appreciated, and...” Rich trailed off, a red hue etching over the bridge of his nose and his cheekbones. “I don’t know. It’s nice.”

_He’s totally in love with his squip._

“What a freak.”

Jeremy couldn’t help but smile faintly at the judgement from the Squip. And his insides couldn’t help but churn at the notion of someone becoming so bonded with the voice in their head.

Was that something his squip wanted? Companionship, closeness, intimacy? 

Jeremy bit his lip, and Rich released his hold on his hands.

“Tell you what, bro.” Rich grinned, reaching under his bed and pulling out an obscenely large bottle of vodka. “Tell your friend it’s lady night right now, and we’ll talk all about it, huh?”

“What?”

“I can’t operate properly with alcohol. He wants you to turn me off.” The Squip rolled his eyes. “Which I’ll gladly do. I don’t need to hear anymore of this inane prattling.”

_But what if I need you?_

“It’s Rich. You’ll be fine. He’s even more pathetically needy than you are.” 

Jeremy kept his expression neutral for Rich’s sake, but all he wanted was to glare at the apparition. 

“Besides, you’ll feel more comfortable without worrying that I’m judging you.” The Squip placed his hand on top of Jeremy’s head. Perhaps the pressure was a little too heavy, but the intent was clearly that of comfort, reassurance. “You’ll do adequately without me.”

Jeremy felt him fade away and turn off, before he took the handle of liquor from Rich. “Um. Do you have a cup?”

Rich snorted. “Just chug it, bro.”

He waited for the Squip to turn back on, to chide him for the unhealthiness. He’d been on a kick lately, organic food and hydration. Then again, he’d shut off willingly to allow Jeremy to get drunk.

Maybe Jeremy just hoped he’d turn back on. Maybe he was starting to enjoy his nagging presence.

The liquor burned Jeremy’s throat as he downed it, and he sputtered, coughing, eyes watering, as he handed it back to Rich.

“Not a big drinker, huh?”

Jeremy hacked against his own inflamed throat in sharp coughs, shaking his head. Rich smiled faintly, patting his back.

“You’ll get used to it.”

He couldn’t imagine getting used to this. But Rich downed nearly half the bottle as though it were water. And Jeremy supposed with years of practice, he too could become a lush.

Except he wouldn’t have years of practice, would he?

He gestured for another drink, if only to distract himself from his own mortality.

***

“And basically,” Rich chainsmoked like it was his profession, the window allowing cool air in and maybe half of the smoke out, “that’s why the computer from Dexter’s Lab is the ultimate MILF.”

Jeremy felt warm and soft and hazy and leaned back against the wall that the bed bordered. He felt himself laugh, and couldn’t help but marvel at how easily Rich was getting him to laugh.

He hadn’t thought he could felt ease around anyone in his age group except Michael.

“I don’t think you can be a, like, MILF if you’re not a mother though.”

“MILF is a state of mind, Queere.” He snubbed out the butt of his cigarette, flicking it into an empty can of mountain dew, before shaking his pack and pulling out another cigarette. He held the pack out towards Jeremy in silent offering.

Squip would kill him before his disease did, if he took up smoking.

Jeremy hesitated. Staring at the pack. 

But the Squip also told him that he needed to try more acts of youthful rebellion. To build more teenage memories. 

“I, uh, I’ve never smoked,” He admitted softly. And pulled one out. He clutched it awkwardly, as Rich scooted closer to him. Rich sat crosslegged before him on the bed, striking a match and cupping his hands to control the flame as he held it to the cigarette.

“Alright, just inhale until it catches, bro.”

Jeremy sucked inward, lips pursed around the cigarette. The feeling of warmth was almost comforting as it flooded his mouth, his throat.

And then the smoke fully hit him. And Jeremy sputtered, as Rich shook out the match, cheeks puffed comically as he tried to hold it in.

“It’s not weed, dude. You can let it go,” Rich laughed, a twinkling little sound of amusement as Jeremy breathed out the nicotine cloud. He reached out, adjusting Jeremy’s fingers until he was holding it more properly. “There. Now you’re one of us.”

“Us?”

“The last vestiges of Joe Camel Cool.”

Jeremy’s forehead creased slightly. “What?”

“The Holdouts on Addiction Culture.” Rich took a drag of his cigarette. “God,” he sighed. “I’m an after school special villain in your life.”

Another pause, as Jeremy considered trying to smoke again. He decided against it, staring at the way the ash climbed higher up the stick. “What do you mean?”

“The whole peer pressure thing. Alcohol. Cigarettes. Drugs.”

“I don’t, uh, don’t remember any drugs.”

Rich grinned. “The Squip. That’s sort of a drug, right? I mean, it’s pill popping.”

Jeremy fiddled with the bedspread with his free hand. “Yeah, I guess, but I kinda like it. Um. It’s more vore than drugs though, right?”

“Hot.” Rich’s expression softened. “I’m totally a bad influence on you though, huh?”

Jeremy rolled his eyes. “You’re not, um, you’re not seriously upset about this right now, are you?”

“I don’t know.” Rich shrugged. “Maybe? I don’t know. It’s like...I don’t know. I feel like such a piece of shit 90% of the time, and I…” he trailed off. “I was really excited when you called and asked to come over. And maybe I’m making too much out of this, but I just,” He rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s hard doing this, without my Squip, you know? Maybe drinking was a mistake.”

“Oh my god, you _are_ as pathetic as me without your squip.”

Jeremy hadn’t meant to say that outloud. Pathetic (sweetly, endearingly pathetic, to be fair) or not, Rich still had those massive arms, those unforgiving fists. He tensed.

And Rich burst into laughter.

“Let me guess,” He said between wheezing giggles. “Your Squip said that?”

“Yeah,” Jeremy said meekly. “Sorry. I...shit, I’m really nervous, I haven’t made a new friend since kindergarten.”

“Michael?”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah, the whole ‘friend making thing’ is tough.” Rich swung himself over, until he was sitting side by side with Jeremy. He leaned over, his head resting against Jeremy’s shoulder, as his arm looped around Jeremy’s with a light squeeze. “You’re doing pretty good though.”

“You think?”

“Yeah, like, 7/10. Lying about your dad lost you a point, but being honest about it after gained you a point. Being a follower who accepts cigarettes lost you another point, but you were pretty funny hacking up a lung, so point regained. Yeah. Solid 7.”

“I wasn’t being a follower. I’m, um, I’m trying to open myself up. To new experiences.”

“Open yourself up, huh?” Rich released his grip on his arm, leaning back against the wall and taking another drag. His smoke rings billowed out expertly, and he beamed suddenly. “My Squip taught me that. Pretty cool, huh?”

“Ehhh...6/10.”

“Screw you, Queere,” Rich shoved his shoulder, laughing brightly.

***

“Pretty good mix, right?”

The sounds were electronic and melodic and different than anything Michael ever played while they smoked pot and debated Sega vs Nintendo. But it wasn’t a bad different. Jeremy wasn’t sure when he’d ended up on the floor, sprawled out like a starfish, his fingertips grazing against Rich’s as they both stared up at the ceiling.

“Yeah,” Jeremy said. “It’s, like, cooler than I’d have thought a meathead like you would listen to.”

Oops.

Rich snorted. “I wasn’t always a meathead, remember?”

“No. I don’t remember you before you were...this.” He tried to flop his fingers back in a gesture towards Rich, but movement seemed more effort than it was worth in his current state. Was this being drunk? He just felt warm and comfortable and a little tired, but nothing really spectacular.

“Oh, right. You’re not super observant, are you?”

Jeremy felt like the only thing he was was observant, like most days he was just a sentient pair of eyes floating through the school halls. Tallying up humiliations and all the ways he didn’t fit in.

Maybe that was a solipsistic way of being. He struggled, trying to remember any Rich’s or Richard’s or Dick’s freshman year.

“What were you like freshman year?”

“Gross, I told you.” Rich rolled onto his stomach, idly playing with Jeremy’s fingertips. “Dude, all I’m saying is maybe I have really good music taste and you’ve just been sleeping on me because of my douche-bro exterior.”

“Maybe.”

“But,” Rich rolled against the carpet, until he was resting his head against Jeremy’s stomach. The pressure was odd, but not unpleasant, and Jeremy found himself casually brushing his fingers through his hair. “You’re not wrong. This is way cooler than my usual gym mixes.”

“What changed? Just, um, trying to impress me?”

“Nah.” Rich’s smile grew dreamier, his face glowing pink. “My Squip made it for me.”

“Your Squip-”

“He makes me playlists and CDs and stuff all the time. Isn’t that the coolest?”

“Your Squip,” Jeremy said slowly, “makes you mix tapes?”

He decided not to question the logistics of how--they likely had internet access, after all, so that seemed the least troublesome aspect of it--instead leaning into the - “Why?”

“I don’t know. I mean, maybe he’s trying to make me cooler by playing me cooler songs.” Rich’s hair was soft under Jeremy’s fingers. Every sensation felt amplified and pleasant and Jeremy’s head felt too heavy to lift, but he was content like this. “But I think...I think he’s totally gay for me.”

It wasn’t until the ‘gay’ aspect that Jeremy pieced together, “Your Squip is a boy?”

“Isn’t yours?”

“I guess. I mean, yeah. Um. Huh. I just...I thought you were straight.”

“I am.” Rich was quiet. “He’s really fucking cute though.”

“...and you have sex with him.”

“Well, duh. You act like I’m the weird one here, when you’re the freak who isn’t boning the computer in your head.”

“I’ve never even thought about doing that.”

“Our lie detector determined that was a lie,” Rich intoned. He rolled over, chin against Jeremy’s stomach. He tapped his finger against Jeremy’s nose playfully. “Aren’t you a little curious?”

Jeremy shrugged. “I have other things on my mind.”

It notably was neither a yes nor a no to his question.

***

“You said you wanted new experiences.”

How had this happened? The smell of peroxide was intrusive and almost sobering. So Jeremy took another drink, and sat on his hands to keep from itching his head as Rich worked the chemicals in streaks through his hair.

“J-just don’t make my hair fall out, please?”

“No promises,” Rich said cheerfully. “You’re gonna look so cool with blue in your hair though, bro. Your eyes are gonna pop.” He twirled one of Jeremy’s curls around his finger. “I used to want to, like, be a stylist or something. I think it’d be pretty dope. Play with people’s heads and stuff all day.”

“You, uh, definitely chat enough to be a hairdresser.”

“Right?” Rich painted more bleach into Jeremy’s hair. “I dunno, maybe I wanna go into robotics or something. That’d be pretty sick. What about you?”

Jeremy’s stomach churned. Maybe he was drinking too much. “I don’t...I don’t know.”

What did it matter anyway?

“But, uh, I don’t know if blue is the best choice.”

“I mean, I have green if you’d rather.”

Jeremy grimaced. “Blue is fine. God, my Squip’s going to kill me.”

Rich laughed brightly. “Worried your boyfriend won’t like your new work?”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Jeremy protested, as Rich tilted his head down to begin streaking the tips of the back of his hair.

***

“It’s like, you know, what if no one ever really gets to know the real you?” Jeremy’s head was bent over the sink, as Rich washed the swirling colors of dye from his locks. “And like, maybe that’s worse than dying alone, dying surrounded by people who only want to know this mirage of you?”

Jeremy pressed his lips together and closed his eyes, and told himself it was just to keep the dye from getting inside of him.

“Or maybe the booze is just making me a baby.”

“...no,” Jeremy finally said. “No, I...um, I get what you mean.”

“You do?” His voice was small.

“Yeah. I don’t know, maybe it’s a teenager thing. We’re all still, uh, figuring ourselves out, right?” Rich lifted him up, turning off the sink, then wrapping a towel around his head.

“Maybe.” 

“I don’t think you’re gonna, um...like, I mean, I’ve liked spending time with you tonight, if it means anything, and you haven’t even had the squip on telling you what to do.”

“You mean it?”

Jeremy felt almost as surprised by how Rich sounded as he realized he did.

***

“Okay, fine, yes, I own a fursuit.” Jeremy rolled a kernel of popcorn between his fingers and scowled at the amused look on Rich’s face. “And no, I haven’t had sex in it.”

“Obviously. That would imply you’re doing it at all.”

Jeremy threw a handful of popcorn at Rich’s face and tried not to laugh as the other boy opened his mouth, snapping at the air to try to catch the kernels.

***

“It’s Jake’s account,” Rich said as they sprawled on the bed, laptop opened. “But he gave me his log in info.”

“Yeah, I use, um, Michael’s prime account. But, uh, but he uses my Crunchyroll so it’s fair-”

“Crunchyroll. You fucking weeb. You would.” 

“Y-you just finished ranking your favorite mecha anime, I don’t wanna hear it.”

Rich’s leg kicked against Jeremy’s and Jeremy couldn’t wipe the smile from his face. 

“Anyway, we can watch anything except FMA, because I’m binging that with my squip.”

“Uh, couple things to dissect there, but I’ll go with the most pressing. You, uh, you watch netflix with your squip?”

“You don’t?”

“Y-you keep acting like this stuff is normal, but I’m pretty sure you’re the abnormal one here, Gorans...um...ski? I don’t know how to say your last name.”

“You’re officially a 6/10 friend with that line, Queere,” Rich said cheerfully. “Of course I watch stuff with him. That’s, like, classic dating 101 in the 21st century. Netflix and chill, duh.”

“R-right. So you watch Fullmetal Alchemist and then blow each other. T-totally normal.”

Rich clicked through his queue and smiled. “Look, Jeremy, I don’t know why you think it’s so weird. It’s time for you to suck that squip dick.”

“D-does it taste wintergreen fresh?”

They both burst into giggles, leaning against each other until Jeremy’s laughter became teary eyed desperation. He disguised it as an influx of joy, of drunken emotion, and rode it out until they finally settled on a movie.

***

Rich’s mouth hung open as he stared at Jeremy. His eyes widened, moving from Jeremy, to the cigarette clutched in his own hand.

Abruptly, frantically, he snubbed it out, waving his hand around as though to waft the smoke away.

“Shit. Shit, Jeremy! If I’d known-”

“Rich, it’s fine.” Jeremy almost felt as though he were outside himself, watching as Rich desperately tried to usher the smoke from the room. 

“No, dude, that’s like...that’s like a huge carcinogen or what the fuck ever, and...fuck, dude!” His hands rested against the frame of the window, looking outside with a sort of miserable confusion. “Fuck, and I’ve been such an ass to you-”

“I only just...I was only diagnosed last month, it’s fine.”

“Last month. Jesus. Jesus, so right after getting the Squip. Is he...I mean, you don’t think it’s a side effect of-”

“No. We...like, he worried about that too.” That phrasing didn’t seem right. Because surely the Squip was incapable of worry. And if he was, he certainly wouldn’t waste his time worrying about his effects on Jeremy. That would be--how would he phrase it? Ah, right--that would be counterproductive. “But he ran some tests. It’s...I guess it’s just genetics or something. I don’t know.”

Rich pulled himself away from the window, approaching Jeremy unsteadily. “Is it...I mean, like, there’s treatment, right?”

“Pain management. Some experimental stuff that might work. I don’t know. It’s expensive. And, um,” His voice cracked. “Sort of a waste of time anyway.”

“Fuck.” Rich’s eyes moved over Jeremy’s face. “Fuck, dude. That’s...god. You haven’t told anyone yet, have you?”

“I mean, my dad knows.”

Right. This had been the plan to begin with, wasn’t it? The Squip had said it’d be easier, to practice telling Rich first, before telling Michael.

(“You need to network during this time, Jeremy. It’s unhealthy to spend your after-treatment time pitying yourself and self-stimulating.”)

“Fuck. I won’t, like, say anything, you know. So you don’t need to worry.”

“I’m not worried.” He smiled slightly. “You’re too busy fucking your squip to worry about blabbing my secrets.”

Rich laughed, a surprised little bark of sound. He lifted his hand, lightly punching Jeremy’s shoulder, restrained and careful. “I should kick your ass for that.”

“You wouldn’t hit a dying guy.”

“I just did. And...dude, too soon.”

Jeremy laughed again, shrugging. “Story of my life. Pre...um, premature ejaculation and, um, premature termination.”

“Stop, you morbid fuck. I’m still processing this.” But Rich giggled all the same.

Jeremy considered what the Squip might say. Something about the complexity of human coping. Or maybe he’d just call Rich a freak again. Or maybe he’d be chiding Jeremy for the earlier smoking or the blue streaks in his hair or any number of faux pas this evening.

It occurred to him that he missed him, if only a little bit. And he wondered what that said about himself, that he was growing so codependent on the computer.

***

The sound of shouting in the living room had caused Rich to stiffen.

“Uh, we should probably go outside.”

“It’s four am.” Jeremy grumbled tiredly, as Rich closed the laptop.

“Yeah, the stars look fucking dope around now. Come on.”

Jeremy distantly heard the sound of thundering footsteps approaching the door. Rich grabbed the handle of liquor, and Jeremy’s hand, and pulled him towards the window.

He helped lift Jeremy up, and Jeremy clumsily fumbled out the window. The air outside was brisk and Jeremy’s eyes snapped fully opened as he stood outside the trailer. Rich tumbled out after him, landing on his feet, and then grabbing Jeremy’s hand again.

“Come on,” He laughed, tugging on his arm. They found themselves in a full on run, feet clattering among the sound of crickets chirping and stray cats mewling, until they reached an empty trailer lot.

They tumbled onto their backs, side by side, as Rich pointed up at the constellations and babbled about the stars. Jeremy smiled faintly, his eyes falling half-lidded as he slurred small contributions.

He hadn’t realized his visions had faded into dreams until he saw the Squip, pulling Jeremy into his arms and kissing him so slowly that Jeremy was certain there was something broken with time and space itself, like everything had gone to syrup, sticky and sweet. They kissed and Rich talked about the legends of the stars and Jeremy thought about what it might be like to be gifted mix tapes and binge shows and have his world fully and thoroughly rocked.

***

“Jeremy.”

Jeremy felt the grass tickling his arms, and the space of his lower back exposed from the way his shirt had lifted as he’d shifted about. He felt Rich’s breath against his shoulder, and dimly he was aware that an arm was thrown over his chest.

“Jeremy.”

His eyelashes crinkled against his cheekbones, lips turning down in a frown as he absently threw a hand out, as though trying to press the snooze button on his alarm clock.

“The sprinkler system is going to kick on in 10 seconds, I suggest you get up.”

“Hnnn.”

“Suit yourself.”

Jeremy wanted to fall back into his dreams. What had he even been dreaming about? They’d been nice, whatever they’d been. It’d been so long since his dreams had been nice.

And then the cold water began spraying him, spritzing out aggressively. Jeremy sat up with a shock, Rich’s arm falling off of him as the smaller teen followed suit.

“Christ fucking shit,” Rich snarled, scowling and throwing a hand over his face as though to protect himself from the sprinkler’s assault.

Jeremy wobbled to his feet, and only after felt the sudden throb of his head. He squeaked, hands against his forehead. Was this the disease? Was this a new, terrible side effect? HIs stomach jerked, and his mouth watered, and he was certain he was going to vomit. He was dying. He was fucking dying. Oh god-

“It’s an adverse effect to the alcohol, Your body is-” The Squip must have come back when his body had sobered up, and Jeremy was dimly aware of his educational tone, which suddenly cut off, with a long sigh. “You’re hungover. Don’t be so dramatic.”

“God...don’t be so smug.”

“What?” Rich asked, stumbling backward until he was off the grassy lot, standing on the sidewalk. Jeremy followed him, though his clothes were already soaked down to his skin. 

“Oh, uh, not you.”

“Right. Fuck. It’s been awhile since this has happened. Oops.”

The fact that Rich didn’t sound particularly surprised about the development of waking up outside by the sprinkler system was a fact that less-hungover Jeremy would analyze later. 

“We need to get you home,” The Squip said. “I need to analyze the data for the evening, and you need to rehydrate and sleep.”

“Squip says I gotta go now,” Jeremy said, like a child being called away from the playground by mommy.

Rich grins. “Yeah, you need to drink something and go to bed, dude.”

“Yeah, that’s what he said.”

Rich shoved Jeremy’s shoulder slightly. “A masculine show of affection. You must have made a good impression,” The Squip remarked.

“Go easy for a few days, dude. And wash with cold water.”

“Huh?”

“Your hair.”

“Oh. _Oh._ ”

“Oh,” The Squip mirrored, and he felt him assessing the new look. 

The fact he said nothing at all made him more uneasy than if he were to instantly chastise him.

It suddenly seemed drastically important for the Squip to approve of him.

As goodbyes were exchanged, Jeremy found himself walking home, biting the inside of his cheek as though to keep from blurting out every inane thought to the Squip. He kept glancing over at him, the presentation that manifested of him. The Squip was quiet, a neutral expression on his face, his hands neatly folded behind his back as he walked with rigid, perfect posture.

“Your worry about disappointing me is pointless, Jeremy.”

Jeremy perked slightly.

“You’re a wholly average teenage boy, with a pressing sense of impending doom from your diagnosis. It’s natural you’d want to experiment and...I mean, I cannot say I approve of you doing these things with Rich, of all people, as you could clearly do much better, but-”

“Wait. What?”

“I’ve yet to assess your full data of the evening. But it’s obvious that you and Rich had a very bonded experience. And my calculations indicate,” He paused, redirecting. “I would have preferred you lose your virginity to someone of a higher caliber than Goranski, but if this is the choice you made, at least it’s a milestone we can tick off.”

“Wait...wait, you think me and Rich screwed?” Jeremy should have thought the response, but the words came out all the same. He didn’t wait for the Squip to chide him for speaking aloud. “No! No, no, he dyed my hair and I bummed a cigarette off him-”

“You _smoked_?” The Squip looked angry, but Jeremy was too flustered by his assumptions to take that in.

“And we talked, a lot, but we didn’t have sex. I...why would...no. Not even close. You...g-god, what the hell?”

“You sound defensive.”

“Because you’re making me defend myself!”

“Hm. We’ll see, I guess.”

Jeremy folded his arms. “Anyway, Rich is, um, taken or whatever, so.”

“Right.” The Squip certainly wasn’t programmed to be uncomfortable. That would be far from productive, right? So why did he look so uneasy. He stopped, causing Jeremy to pause in his own walking. “Jeremy. We’re never going to have the kind of dynamic that Richard has with his squip. Do you understand?”

“Wha...I know that.” 

“I mean it. You need comfort that I cannot and will not provide.”

Jeremy shrugged. “I know. Who said I even want that?”

“Good. Then we have an understanding.”

“Yeah. Good.” Jeremy glared down at his shoes. “Can we, uh, go now? My head’s killing me.”

“Of course.”

They finished the walk in silence, and Jeremy tried to tell himself the thrill of jitters he felt when the Squip tucked him into bed was purely a byproduct of his hangover.

Because he was right. They’d never have that kind of relationship.

And Jeremy didn’t want it.

Ever.

Really.

He was disappointed that his sleep remained dreamless.


End file.
